What's In a Name?
by The World of My Creation
Summary: Margaret watches John sleep and thinks about how her life might have changed if things had gone a little differently. Slightly based on BBC mini-series. AU. ONE-SHOT.


**What's in a Name?**

A _North and South_ fan-fiction

**Summary**: Margaret watches John sleep and thinks about how her life might have changed if things had gone a little differently. Slightly based on BBC mini-series. AU. ONE-SHOT.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own "North and South," or the BBC, and I just borrowed some of their lines.

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Margaret watched his sleeping figure, his chest rising and falling with every breath. She always thought that John was the calmest when he was asleep, for when he arose, she was sure to not get a moment's rest, he seemed to be energy itself. But she loved that energy, and she loved John.

And then he smiled, the corners of his lips turning up slightly before they resumed their original position in his sleep.

It was that smile which brought back a tide of memories past.

***

The train rumbled to a stop, their journey only half complete.

Margaret sighed and looked out of the window, people bustling about, smiles on their faces and luggage in their hands. Another train had come in on the other side of the platform.

"There's a ten minute stop here. Sorry for the delay, but we are halfway to London. I think we have to wait for a northbound train to pass," Henry said, bringing her attention away from the train across from them. He smiled at her before returning to the newspaper he was reading.

She thought to go out for some fresh air, they still needed a long way to go, and she knew she would not be able to bear it in good will if she didn't go out now to stretch her limbs which were beginning to cramp from the lack of movement.

As soon as she stepped out onto the platform the sounds of the engines and whistles of the trains accosted her ears. But she soon blocked them out, she had been used to blocking out the sounds of the mills in Milton, and these sounds were hardly any different.

She glanced about the platform, before wandering off slightly in one direction. She knew not to go too far, for Henry would be sure to come looking for her, and she hadn't much time before the train departed once more.

Margaret allowed her thoughts to turn to the mill. When she had suggested the idea, Henry had thought it was a wise decision. She only wondered what John would say, would he be averse to the thought of her money being invested in the mill? She knew that John was proud about the mill, his life had been spent bringing it up to where it had been until it was no more. If only they had been able to meet with him, then she could settle things.

She could settle everything.

She almost thought it a figment of her imagination when she saw John step out from the train. She took a few tentative steps forward, and when he saw her, his face seemed to brighten and his lips gifted her with that smile she had only ever caught glimpses of.

"Where are you going?" John spoke, he was at her side in an instant.

"To London," she replied, turning to look in the direction where Henry waited in their compartment before returning her attention to John but not daring to meet his eyes, for she knew not what awaited her there. "I've been to Milton."

"Guess where I've been," Margaret watched as he dug a hand into the pocket of his vest and extracted a yellow rose; roses she used to gather at…

"To Helstone?" she immediately put her hand out and John placed the flower in her hand. She stared at it in awe. "I thought those were all gone."

"I found it in the hedgerow," he smiled, apparently pleased at surprising her. "You have to look hard."

She then allowed herself to look up at him.

"Why were you in Milton?" he seemed surprised but not displeased.

"On business," she began, averting her gaze, "that is I have a business proposition. Oh dear, I need Henry to help me explain."

Margaret attempted to move towards the train, but John laid a gentle hand on her arm. "You don't need Henry to explain."

She glanced in the direction of Henry once more before nodding and following John to a bench. She took a deep breath, scarcely allowing herself to look at John even when she could feel his eyes on her.

"I have to get this right. It is a business proposition. I have some 15 thousand pounds; it is lying in the bank at present earning very little interest. Now, my financial advisors tell me that if you were to take this money and use it to run Marlborough Mills, you could give me a very much better rate of interest," she was speaking quickly. "So you see, it is only a business matter; you will not be obliged to me in any way. It is you who would be doing… me the service."

She stopped and looked up at John, for he had just covered her hands with one of his own. But no sooner had his hand enveloped hers did he release them, as if he had touched something hot and let go to avoid getting burned.

"I'm sorry," she said, her breath caught in her throat.

"No, it is I who should be apologizing," his eyes wandered down to her hands, coming to rest on the binding contract that encircled her finger.

"I didn't know, I thought…" she stumbled for the words that would not come.

"It's fine, don't think more of it than you ought. I suppose I should be wishing you joy," his voice was strained, and she could feel her heart breaking in two. If only she had waited just a little longer, but she knew it would not do, she could not turn back now, not when she was…

"Thank you," her words were lost amidst the train whistles, and they rose together.

"Good-bye Mar — Mrs. Lennox," he extended his hand to her, and she grasped it firmly, trying to etch into her mind the feel of his hands, hands she would most likely never feel again.

And when he walked away, she didn't turn back to look at him, because she knew if she did she could never return to the life she had made for herself and for the life she had helped create.

Instead, she squared her shoulders and returned to the compartment, where she was greeted by the smile of her husband.

***

Margaret smiled sadly.

"Mama." A child's voice interrupted her musings.

"Yes John?" she said leaning over her four-year-old son, a lock of her hair dangling just within his reach. He stretched out one small hand and grabbed it. "John!"

He laughed, and she couldn't help but laugh with him.

Perhaps things didn't turn out as she had expected. But truly, given the option, she would not change a thing about the way things had turned out.

She had John, he was, and always would be, her reason for living. And his name, well, it was the memories that made it all the more special.

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**A/N: Please REVIEW! And click on my profile to check out my "Pride and Prejudice" fanfic: Eyes Without a Name. Thanks!**


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